What Are the Odds
by dls
Summary: For Slodwick's "A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words" Challenge - I receive a picture and write a 1000-words fic based on it see cover image . Draco bets on a Quidditch that Gryffindor would lose and Harry wouldn't catch the snitch. He then takes actions to make sure he wins. Rated M to be safe.


"Next!" George smiled at the Ravenclaw as he recorded her bet.

The twins had set up bets for Quidditch games since their first year and used the profit to purchase the items needed for their pranks.

Draco approached the table. "Weasels."

"Ferret," George shot back. "What do you want?"

"To place a bet."

"What team and how much?" George asked cautiously.

"Not so fast, what are the odds?" Draco asked, although he had a good idea as to which team the odds would favor. The game was Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff and there was no doubt who would win, Draco thought venomously. Damn Potter.

"2 to 1 for Gryffindor and 10 to 1 for Hufflepuff. 5 Knuts entrance fee."

Draco frowned at the obscene display of arrogance. Hufflepuff wasn't that bad. Well, if he were to be honest, bad would actually be a compliment for the Hufflepuffs. However, it was all about to change, Draco thought with glee, but schooled his face so his delight wouldn't show. "Confident, aren't we?"

"It's not confidence. It's certainty."

Draco pulled out a pouch. "Ten Sickles that Hufflepuff will win and Potty doesn't catch the snitch."

The crowd gasped at the amount of money Draco placed on the table as well as the unthinkable outcome he bet on.

"We appreciate your business." Fred grinned widely as he wrote down Draco's bet. He could already see the pile of coins in his mind and the amount of items he could buy to build new pranks.

"Will you be able to pay me when I win?"

"If you win," George corrected. Which would never happen, he added mentally. "We can discuss payments then."

"Fine." Draco said then strolled away. Time to set his plan into action; he smirked as he headed toward the locker room tower.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes and he blinked to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. He stared at the locker room tower's window with the focus he should be using to find the snitch. He didn't dare to approach the sight, afraid that it would disappear.

A foot was dangling out of the window, the paleness of the skin contrasting sharply with the dark stone bricks. Tiny toenails shimmered, shining like pearls against the sunlight. The arch could only be described with one word ﾖ perfect, the perfect angle and the perfect stretch of skin as the owner flexed the foot.

"Harry!" Fred shouted in his ear, forcing him to take his eyes off that wonderful display.

"What?" He asked distractedly, but knew better than to turn his gaze back to the mesmerizing foot.

"Pay attention!" Fred yelled as he sped off.

"Sure." Harry muttered as his eyes returned to the tempting sight. He almost lost his balance when he saw the toned, porcelain leg.

The delicate ankle made his mouth water with the need to latch his lips over that tiny bump of bones. The slim but muscular calf elicited a whimper. And quads, oh good Lord the quads, were making his hands itch with the need to touch and his tongue tingled with the urge to trace the well-defined lines of muscle.

"Lord have mercy," Harry whispered as he felt his erection bump uncomfortably against the wooden handle of his broom. He shifted as much as he could without falling off or looking suspicious.

He glanced around to see if other players had seen the view, and was surprised when everyone else was absorbed in the game. Harry wondered briefly why he was the only one who could see it, but soon decided that it was better this way. A possessive part of him was thrilled that only he could see such an enticing sight. It also growled at the idea of anyone else laying eyes on this perfection.

The Lord didn't have mercy on Harry, or rather, had too much mercy. Another ankle peeked from the side and Harry remained oblivious to the game.

Harry was determined not to move his eyes as more of the creamy flesh appeared. He had missed the movements the first time and damn the world if he were to miss them again. He longed to run his tongue along the muscle as the calf came into view and shifted to rest the foot on the windowsill.

A low hum hovered around him, and Harry waved his hand to get rid of the distraction. The lower body was visible. Although covered by a black shirt, the firm abdomen and slim hips were evident. The legs stood out against the shirt and the ash-colored window like a white line on a blackboard.

Something golden and tiny flew into his view; Harry slapped it away, ignoring the collective gasp around him.

The sight disappeared as a whistle blew loudly and the announcer stuttered the results. "The winner is Hufflepuff with the score of 160 to 40."

"What happened?" Harry landed on the field; confusion marred his face. The window was obviously enchanted for his view only, but who would do such a thing? More importantly, who was the owner of those amazing legs?

"You hit the blasted snitch right into the Hufflepuff's seeker's hands! That's what happened!" Oliver shouted as he stormed off to the locker room.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Fred asked.

Before Harry could answer, a cultured voice cut into the conversation.

"I believe you owe me 50 Sickles." Draco let his smugness show blatantly on his face.

Fred growled in frustration. It wasn't that he didn't have 50 Sickles. They made enough money from the entrance fee and the people who bet on Gryffindor. The idea of Malfoy winning irked him. "I'll give it to you during dinner."

"Glad to hear it." Draco smirked as he turned away. "Good game, Potty."

Harry grunted in reply, his mind concentrated on Draco's shirt ﾖ a black, silk shirt.

"Congratulations, Draco," Pansy said when he entered the Slytherin common room. "Must be your lucky day, what are the odds of Potter losing."

"Yeah," Draco smirked. "What are the odds?"


End file.
